Say Goodnight Gracie... good night.

At 6am this morning, I offered my daughter a sippy cup of cow's milk. Whole milk. Full Fat. Organic. For all intents and purposes, pretty good stuff. But from a mommy cow. Not a mommy me.

After 14 months (and almost to the day), I decided today was the day that Stella wasn't going to have any more boobies. We have been weaning for a month or two now. First the day ones were slowly going away, at first being replaced by formula, and then when she was a year old, milk. Then, because I was teaching one night a week and Steve was doing the nighttime routine anyway, I figured the evening one was easier to stop. All of this without much of a fuss (although she does have the habit of occasionally pulling open the top of my shirt, peering in, checking them out, and closing my shirt. Yes, Stella, they are still there).

But the morning one... oh the morning time. Just me and her. 6am. Half-awake, half-asleep. More for comfort on her part than anything else, and me not stopping it sooner because it was just easier not to. I think though, this morning, I decided I was going to be selfish. I made the decision to take my boobies back.

She was a little fussy, and bit confused. What? A sippy cup? Seriously? No way. Oh - yes, Mommy, those birds outside the window are MIGHTY interesting. So is that book. And yes, so is that monkey. What? Sippy cup? Sure.

I guess it was easier than I thought. And as I sat in our rocker and watched Stella toddle around her bedroom (oh did i mention she's walking finally?) I got a tear in my eye. That's it. She's definitely not a baby anymore.

I feel good though. I made a commitment. I said I'd do it a year. I'm not saying the year was easy.
I might be smiling, but those are REALLY TIRED eyes. I wish I had given in to formula a little earlier. I think I wouldn't have been freaking out all those late night and worrying that I wasn't going to be able to pump enough to feed her the next day when I had to teach class. At 9 months, I finally was able to get her to drink it so that I could go away for 3 days to interview for job, and I'm amazed I didn't try to offer it sooner. Not that I would have stopped breastfeeding, but that the pressure of making sure there was always something in the house would have not been there. ('Cause ya'll - pumping is not up there among my favorite things...) I do wish that our culture wasn't so "breast is best" crazy that it exceeds the fact that "food is best" and that means whatever works for you and your child. But that's neither here nor there....

I said I would breastfeed a year. And I did. I'm not judging those who choose to do it less (or not at all) or do it longer, but I am proud of us that we did it for this long. Because it was "us." And as hard as it was to look at her little body this morning,thoroughly engrossed in a book, slightly oblivious to me watching her with a little tear in my eye, I know that we're ready to delve into whatever the next chapter will take us. She's turning into quite an amazing little person.

Now we just have to work on that whole "stuffing the hand down the shirt to check and make sure the boobies are still there" sort of thing... Although I guess it's always been a habit, eh?